4th Year Chaos
by Kurisuten-chan
Summary: MAJOR REVISIONS. Harry Potter x Bleach. UraYoru and IchiRuki. Just when you finally think you've got Kisuke Urahara figured out, something like this happens. Hitsugaya's headache just got bigger. Ichigo, Rukia, Renji, Orihime, Matsumoto and more! HP GoF.
1. Simplicity

**Kuri-Kuri:** I've done some MAJOR revisions on this story, and I hope it's a lot better this time! Please enjoy, and review!

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Chapter One: Simplicity

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Urahara Kisuke liked to think of himself as a rather simple person. If something benefited him, he liked it. If it didn't, he could care less. If it interfered with his rather simple life, he would often frown at it and shoo it away, preferably to somewhere he would never have to see it again. Sadly, getting rid of some things wasn't quite so simple. One such thing was magic. If you frowned at it, it would grin cheekily back at you. If you shooed it away, it would stay put. If you _forced_ it away, it would be back in a matter of minutes...and if you cut all ties with it, moved to another country, _died_ thus traveling to another dimension, lived there for a couple of millennia, and then moved back to the real world, still being very much dead, the damn magic would _still _find you.

The simple (in his mind) shopkeeper was currently sitting in a meeting with someone he hoped never to have to see again (although, in the back of his mind he'd always known that some way or another they'd come calling). Although this person was not magical (or, at least, not magical in the way that he absolutely, positively, never _ever_ wanted to see again), he was still not necessarily welcome. Actually, it was more Urahara's fault than the other's, but he wasn't hiding, no, of _course _not…Okay, so maybe he did invent something illegal (_very_ illegal), and generally cause mischief and mayhem, but he wasn't running away from anything!

…Except for the person he was having this meeting with. A person by the name of Yamamoto Genryusai Shigekuni. Truth be told, when the Captain-Commander of Soul Society had come knocking on the Ex-Shinigami's door, he had contemplated boarding up the doors and windows with the conveniently placed wooden planks and nails by his door, but instead plastered his best I-know-nothing smile on his face and greeted the powerful shinigami with open arms.

Amazingly, he had not been instantly fried, blasted, slashed, strangled or generally slaughtered, in fact, he wasn't even apprehended! But as soon as their conversation started, Kisuke began to wish he _had_ been killed. The Division One Captain had somehow found out about his life. As in, when he had been closely acquainted with magic. No, closely wasn't accurate, _intimately _was a better term. And that was when he'd first fallen from grace. Fallen hard and fast. And he wasn't the only one with scars to prove it.

"Out."

Urahara's voice was cold, icy, and _dead_. His usual smile was gone from his face, and his eyes were dangerous, as if all the humor had been sucked out of him, no, as if there was never any humor in him in the first place. Yoruichi, in her petite cat form, glared at the Captain-Commander from the shadows, ears pressed flat back against her head and her teeth bared menacingly. If looks could kill, Yamamoto would have just died twice.

"Kisuke."

"I don't want to hear any more," the blonde man spat at the elder man, turning his back and opening the front door, indicating for the other shinigami to leave.

"_Kisuke_. Think about it."

And with that, the elder man left.

* * *

Yoruichi, no longer in cat form, leapt up onto the roof, silently padding over to the familiar form of her best friend, whose back was toward her.

"Knew you'd be up here," she whispered, her arms looped around his neck.

Usually talkative Urahara didn't reply.

The purple haired woman removed her arms from his neck, moving to sit on his left, snuggling up close. There were a few moments of silence before Yoruichi decided to take the plunge.

"Kisuke…maybe…maybe you should go," she said softly, bracing herself for the yelling, the denial, ready to be pushed away.

But the shopkeeper didn't yell; he didn't even move. He remained still, not even glancing at her. The few quiet seconds felt like years to the former Stealth Force Commander.

"Why should I go back there?"

His words were clipped and cold, and even though she was right next to him, to Yoruichi it felt like he was light years away. She didn't say anything for a while, then finally replied.

"Closure."

The purple haired woman reached up a calloused hand, softly gripping the inventor's chin, forcing him to look at her, her golden eyes boring into his own green ones.

"You've been running from this for so long. Too long. Don't you think it's about time to face it?" Yoruichi asked, her voice tender.

Kisuke pulled her into his chest, embracing her. And then he was gone.

* * *

Captain Hitsugaya Toshiro was currently standing in a basement. Well, it wasn't really a basement…It was more of a cave. A very illegal cave. But, then, what did Urahara make that _wasn't_ in some way illegal?

But the captain wasn't concerned with the cavern at the moment. He was waiting for the rest of the party to show up, so that they could depart for their current mission. People slowly began to trickle into the secret hideaway, and eventually everyone was gathered.

"Good to see that everyone's finally here!" Urahara chimed, his green and white fan in one hand and cane in the other.

"Yeah, yeah," a certain orange haired substitute-shinigami drawled. "What's this mission anyway?"

"Didn't you read the file?" a certain short, white haired captain asked, sounding rather annoyed.

"What file?"

Hitsugaya smacked his palm to his face, feeling that the two would become closely acquainted in the next few months.

"You can read it later," Kuchiki Rukia replied, waving a thick manila folder at him.

Kurosaki Ichigo snatched the folder from her, glaring slightly.

"Don't worry! I didn't read it either!" Matsumoto Rangiku announced, smiling brightly. "Taicho read the whole thing twice, though, so I don't need to."

"Just because I do my work thoroughly doesn't mean you can slack off," the captain growled, dark aqua-teal eyes icily glaring at his vice-captain.

"Why not?"

And yet again Hitsugaya's face was introduced to his palm.

"As much as I'd like to stay and chat, we must be going," Kisuke proclaimed merrily. "All you have to do is grab onto this boot."

After a minute or so of holding onto the dirty old boot, Abarai Renji was growing bored.

"Hey, is this just another one of your joke -"

Only for his words to morph into a mangled yell as they were whisked away.

* * *

"That was…AMAZING!" Inoue Orihime yelled as she jumped up from the pile of garbage she had been thrown into after letting go of the portkey.

"Not many share that opinion the first time they use a portkey," the cat – Yoruichi – told the overly energetic girl.

Not many others seemed to share Orihime's enthusiasm.

"Ugh…" Ichigo groaned as he stood up, rubbing his head which he had knocked on a conveniently placed trash can.

"Where are we?" Rukia asked, looking around at the small, enclosed alleyway, the only entrance and exit being a small, shabby looking door with a sign saying "The Leaky Cauldron."

"At the entrance to the oldest pub in Britain," Urahara announced cheerfully, looking totally unscathed, unlike the others sitting on the cobblestones of the alley.

The odd shopkeeper then proceeded to open the pub's door and saunter on in, Yoruichi padding after him.

The other six looked at each other before Hitsugaya picked himself off of the ground, dusted himself off, and followed, the others trailing behind him.

* * *

Hermione Granger looked at her watch impatiently, fidgeting in her seat at one of the tables in the Leaky Cauldron. She, Harry, Ron and Mrs. Weasley had been asked by Professor McGonagall to help some foreign students and a professor around Diagon Alley. Hermione had, of course, readily agreed, eager to help, and had easily dragged her two male friends along.

Next to her, Ronald Weasley was slouched over with his face on the table, looking thoroughly bored out of his mind, even though just a couple of days ago they had been running in terror from Death Eaters at the Quidditch World Cup.

Harry Potter was gazing lazily at the beer glass that currently drying itself while the landlord and bartender, Tom, chatted with a customer who looked a little dazed from all the fire whisky they had consumed.

Mrs. Weasley was talking to a witch next to her, being the social person she was, but was still keeping an eye open for foreign or lost looking people.

They all looked over, however, when the back door opened and the sounds of many feet tapping against the wood floors greeted their ears. The four people turned around to see some _very_ foreign looking people. In fact, they looked so foreign that it seemed as if they could be from another planet, and everyone except for the blonde man in the front looked rather lost.

The blonde man noticed the quartet looking at him and began to walk towards them, a wide smile on his face, and his cane making a soft clicking sound when it came into contact with the wooden floors of the pub.

"Am I correct in assuming that you are Mrs. Molly Weasley?" he asked, smiling at the red haired woman.

"Yes, I am," Molly replied. "You must be the new Professor, then."

"That I am. It is a pleasure to meet such a fine woman," he confirmed, giving a small flourishing bow. "And who might you be, young lady?" he asked, turning towards Hermione.

"Hermione Granger, a fourth year student at Hogwarts," she replied, blushing slightly.

"I'm Ron Weasley, the three of us are in the same year," the redhead announced, stepping slightly in front of Hermione, as if to shield her from the new Professor.

"And I'm Harry," the lanky, black haired boy said, stepping up to the other side of his bushy haired friend.

"Potter?" the man with the green and white striped hat inquired.

Harry nodded his head sheepishly, hoping they wouldn't make a scene.

"Well, it's nice to meet you all," the odd shopkeeper grinned. "I am Kisuke Urahara, but you shall all know me as Professor Urahara, and this is my cat, Yoruichi."

He then looked back at the rest of his group, most of whom were wearing rather vacant expression.

"Oopsie," he chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. "I forgot the translation spell, didn't I?"

"Yes, you did," the shortest of the group answered, rolling his eyes. "Although, I can speak English well enough."

Urahara chuckled again before muttering a spell.

"Can you understand me now?" he asked brightly.

"You're an idiot," an orange haired teen stated bluntly, before introducing himself. "I'm Ichigo Kurosaki, nice to meet you."

Ichigo was on the taller side, and hade bright orange hair, _Weasley_ orange hair. He looked rather tough and had a "don't mess with me" sort of vibe, but his chocolate brown eyes were rather playful and teasing.

"Renji Abarai," another member of the group grinned. "Sixth year, same as Ichigo."

Renji was taller than Ichigo, over six feet (one hundred and eighty two cm) and had a head full of long crimson colored hair which was in ponytail that made it look like a bright red pineapple. However, his most distinctive feature was the tattoos that crisscrossed his forehead and neck, but were mostly covered by a white bandana on his forehead.

"And I'm Rukia Kuchiki, also year six. Pleased to meet you," a girl smiled, extending her hand for Mrs. Weasley to shake.

Rukia was very petite, much smaller than Renji, who was on her left, and Ichigo, who was on her right. She had long black hair, one chunk which hung right between her eyes, and her eyes were large and a pretty amethyst color. Her smile was pleasant, but Harry couldn't help but feel that it would be bad to get on her bad side.

"Hello! I'm Orihime Inoue!" another girl greeted cheerfully. "As you've probably guessed, I'm also in the sixth year!"

Orihime was slightly short and had burnt orange hair, held out of her face by two small flower hair clips. She was very pretty and…busty. She seemed rather ditzy, but Hermione felt that her heart was in the right place.

"And I'm Rangiku Matsumoto, but you can call me Ran for short," she winked, making the two wizards blush. "I'll be in seventh year, however."

Rangiku…was hot. She was very well developed and about the same height as Ichigo. She flipped her strawberry blonde hair over her shoulder and her light blue eyes glinted mischievously. Her glossy lips were perked up in a smile and a silver chain dangled around her neck.

A playful gleam flitted through her eyes and she through her arm around a shorter boy's shoulders, pulling him up against her chest. "And this is Shiro!" she announced, ruffling his hair.

The boy looked annoyed and detached her hand from his hair, pushing away from the pretty woman. "I'm _not_ Shiro. My name is Toshiro Hitsugaya and I'll be in the fourth year."

"Awww, but Shiro is soooooooo much cuter!" Rangiku pouted, drawing his head back against her chest.

"I am _not_ cute," he hissed, glaring at Rangiku.

"Yes you are!"

Ron and Harry were currently wondering how it was that Hitsugaya could be buried in Rangiku's chest and not even bat an eyelash when they weren't even that close to her and were bushing.

Meanwhile, Hermione noted Hitsugaya's odd, spiky white hair, and piercing aqua-teal colored eyes, along with his height…or lack thereof.

"Anyway," Urahara interrupted, clapping his hands. "I think it's about time we head into Diagon Alley."

And with that, he led them back out into the alley, where Molly tapped some bricks with her wand, reveling a breathtaking sight.

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**Kuri-Kuri:** That all for now! Hope to update soon. Please review!


	2. Foreign

**Kuri:** Not mine, you know the drill! Wow – it's been forever since I updated! Also, to those of you who read this story before I revamped it, please read chapter one first; this will make no sense otherwise!

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**Chapter Two: Foreign**

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Many of the foreigners stood with their mouths agape in the entrance to Diagon Alley. It was bright and crowded, bustling and big. Hitsugaya's cold aqua-teal eyes scanned over the crowds, taking in the scene, his mouth one of the few not wide open. His eyes suddenly flicked up to the entryway the group was standing, eyes narrowing as he surveyed it.

'Hmm…..this doorway is a lot like the senkai gates, but it's not completely stable. I'll have to get someone from the 12th squad to go and inspect it,' thought our snowy little captain.

"Amazing, isn't it?" chirped Hermione, smiling as she remembered when she had first been introduced to the magical (literally) place. "We have lots of shopping to do, though. Let's go!"

The shinigami nimbly weaved through the crowds following the two wizards and two witches, although they didn't need to weave too much, most people moved out of their way, eyeing them warily.

"Right," Molly Weasley started. "You'll all need robes, including you, Professor Urahara, dear. Madam Malkin's has what you'll need."

They all crowded into a medium-sized shop, filled with brightly colored fabrics and a generally cheery air about it. Hitsugaya immediately didn't like it. His mood drastically plummeted when he was fitted first, and all the women in the shop proceeded to coo over how _cute_ he looked it the Hogwarts robes.

While the snowy captain was being fitted with robes, Renji and Rukia were explaining to Ichigo what exactly the mission was about, in Japanese, of course. Ichigo had merely known that for some reason they were going to a school in Europe for a year, and had been very surprised to see all the odd objects and people in Diagon Alley.

In a rather short amount of time they had all been fitted with their new uniforms and had been told that their robes should be ready in an hour or so. The interesting group had proceeded to buy their potion supplies using the money from an account opened up for them by Yamamoto, and were currently on their way to buy their books.

As soon as Hitsugaya Toshiro stepped into Flourish and Blotts bookstore, he was in heaven (or, at least, as close to heaven as he'd ever get). The normally cold white haired captain looked like a kid in a candy store, and the normally financially strict shinigami proceeded to spend nearly all of his extra money on books of all sorts (_Dueling __Dragons_, _Quidditch __Throughout __the __Ages_, _Hogwarts: __A __History_, _Magical __Mishaps_, _Greatest __Wizards __and __Witches __of __All __Time_, and many _many_ more).

"That was…out of character," Renji commented, wide eyed from the large stack of books that the Division Ten Captain was skillfully balancing.

"Hmm, not really," Rangiku remarked. "Taicho _loves_ books. He's read the whole Soul Society library already. Whenever he disappears I tend to find him in some corner with a book."

"The whole library?" Ichigo exclaimed, nearly choking on the air he was breathing (which _is_ possible…).

"Well, he's had over a hundred years to read them all," Rukia reasoned.

"Yep, and Taicho reads really fast, too, a book a week usually, even though he has all that paperwork to do," Matsumoto added merrily.

"Who's had a hundred years to read a whole library?" Harry asked, popping up next to the trio.

"Um, just, ah," Matsumoto stuttered, trying to think up an excuse.

"Just this guy in a movie we saw a while ago," Ichigo answered, saving them. "It was about this guy who is, ah, cursed, so he has to live for a really long time."

"Yeah, you see, Hitsu – Toshiro's large book pile reminded us of how the guy reads a lot," Renji finished, smiling awkwardly (he had never been a good liar).

"Oh. What was the movie called? It sounds interesting," Hermione chimed in, having overheard the conversation.

"Um, well…" Renji stuttered, trying to come up with an excuse.

"What's a movie?" Ron asked, looking very miffed.

"How do you not know what a movie is?" Ichigo retorted, looking a little shocked. "Do you live under a rock or something? Even _Toshiro_knows what movies are!"

"That's Cap – " the shorter boy started, but he was cut off as Matsumoto shoved another book into his already humongous pile.

"Hey, look at this one _Toshiro_! It's all about water based spells; sounds interesting doesn't it, _Toshiro_," she said cheerily, but stressing his name and giving him a knowing look.

Hitsugaya blushed, realizing his mistake. He'd just gotten so used to people automatically correcting him that he'd forgotten that most kids in this strange western culture called each other by their first names, and certainly not by _Captain_.

"So…it's like just staring at a wizarding photograph for a few hours?" Ron asked, bringing the Tenth Division Captain and his Vice Captain back into the conversation. "Wouldn't that be boring?'

"Well, it's not really like a wizarding picture…" Hermione tried to explain. "It's like…like a picture book, but without the words, and the pictures are continuously acting out the story."

Ron still looked confused. "Do you relate _everything_ to books, Hermione?" he questioned, causing her the blush slightly.

"I do not!" she retorted indignantly. "It was a good analogy, though!"

"Have you ever seen a play?" Ichigo interrupted, aiming the question toward Ron.

"Yeah, once. Dad wanted to go," he replied.

"A movie is like a play, but it's recorded in a picture so that you can watch it over and over," he explained.

"Oh," Ron said, comprehension dawning on his face. "Why didn't you say so sooner? See, Hermione, _Ee-chee-goh__'__s_ definition makes sense."

Hermione huffed angrily before knocking him on the head with her potions textbook and storming off.

"What did I do?" the red head whined.

The others just sighed.

* * *

"Not quite," Ichigo sighed. "Like this: _I-chi-go_."

"_I-chee-go_," Ron parroted, or at least tried to parrot.

Ichigo resisted the urge to growl in frustration. It wasn't really Ron's fault after all; he just had a bit of trouble with the "chi" part – it kept coming out as a sort of "che" sound instead. Plus, the shinigami wasn't in much of a position to complain, considering he was having enough trouble trying to get _He-ru-mai-o-ni_. At least _Ron_ was pretty straight forward, as was _Heri_, although the pronunciation still felt slightly off.

"It's _chi_," Ichigo repeated, "with an "e" sound, not an "a" sound."

Ron scrunched up his freckled face for a moment before trying again: "_I-chi-go_."

"Great," the taller teen congratulated, flashing Ron a smile. "Now can you help me with _He-ru-mai-o-ni_ some more?"

The Weasley opened his mouth to continue, but was abruptly cut off as the group came to a halt outside of an old wooden building with large glass windows across the front and a sign painted in peeling gold lettering proclaiming it to be _Ollivanders: __Makers __of __Fine __Wands __since __382 __B.C._

"Well, it's in surprisingly good condition," Renji muttered, eyeing the sign and the old wood of the shop. "Is this where we get our wands, then?"

"Yep," Urahara replied, pushing open the door with a flourish. "Ollivanders is the best in Europe, if not the world."

The blond man strode into the shop, the other foreigners trailing behind him. Harry entered last, closing the door behind him while trying not to feel claustrophobic due to the amount of people shoved into the tiny store.

"Ah! Customers!"

Nearly everyone jumped a foot into the air as the old wandmaker popped up suddenly from behind the counter, his white hair poofing out in an almost Einsteinian way.

"Mister Potter! Holly, eleven inches, phoenix feather. And Miss Granger: vine, ten and three quarters inches, and dragon heartstring. And Mister Weasley, too! My, my, willow, fourteen inches, and unicorn tail hair, if I do recall," the old man chirped happily.

The three Hogwarts students looked a little surprised, while the shinigami looked extremely confused at the whole ordeal.

"What?" Ichigo asked intelligently, breaking the silence.

"Their wands of course!" Ollivander replied. "Now, you I haven't seen in here before. You're here for a wand, then?"

The orange haired teen opened his mouth to answer.

"Why of course you are! Here, come this way – front and center!" Ollivander continued, situating Ichigo in the middle of the room as a tape measure flew over from somewhere in the back of the shop.

"Which is your wand arm?" he asked, scrutinizing the Japanese student.

"Umm, right?" Ichigo replied, holding said arm up reluctantly.

"Excellent, excellent," the wandmaker said, still scrutinizing Ichigo as the tape measure whirred around the teen, measuring his arms, legs, ears, hair, even between his eyes!

"Hmmm…" Ollivander murmured, pulling a dusty box off of a nearby shelf. "Try this."

Ichigo took the offered wand, but was unsure what exactly he was supposed to do with it.

"Well, give it wave!" the old man said exasperatedly.

The teen blushed slightly, before flourishing the small stick. A window shattered. Another wand was shoved into his hand before he could even apologize, and he soon found himself waving it again.

After about six wands, one was found that sent off small redish-black sparks instead of destroying anything else. Although, Ichigo thought guiltily, that may have just been because there was nothing left in the shop to break.

"Ebony, thirteen and two thirds inches, and dragon heartstring," Ollivander smiled, handing the wand's case over to the orange haired teen.

He then waved his own wand, causing all of the broken objects littering the store to magically glue themselves back together.

The students continued in this fashion, Rukia, Renji, Matsumoto, and Orihime getting their wands without a hitch. Hitsugaya's, on the other hand, took considerably longer, until Ollivander finally came back with an extremely dusty box from the back of the store.

"I haven't pulled this one out in years," he said, a glint of excitement in his pale eyes. "Western white pine, ten inches, and dragon heartstring. It was one of the first wands to be made with dragon heartstring – that of an enormous ice dragon."

Hitsugaya waved it smoothly, and a light snow started to fall in the store.

Ollivander gave a soft contented hum before moving onto his last customer. He stared at Urahara for a long time, observing him as if he was trying to solve a puzzle, or remember something just out of his reach.

"Have we met before?" he asked, his brow furrowing.

"No, I don't believe we have. Just one of those faces," Urahara replied cheerily, adjusting his white and green stripe hat.

The wandmaker nodded, the tape measure flicking out to begin measuring the odd shopkeeper.

Twenty-seven wands later, everyone was getting very bored.

"Hey, Hat-n-Clogs, we're going to go get some ice cream at that shop we passed by earlier. We'll see you in a bit," Ichigo announced over his shoulder as he pushed open the wooden door.

"Sigh, youth these days," Urahara commented with a mock put-upon expression. "No patience at all."

Twelve wands later, the ex-shinigami's own patience was beginning to wear thin.

Ollivander scrutinized him once again, before muttering, "I wonder…"

The wandmaker walked to the back of the shop and out of the blonde's sight. He came back a few minutes later with an extremely dusty old case. However, instead of the usual cardboard that made up most of the wand boxes, this one was made of wood.

"Try this one," he said, handing it gently to Urahara.

The shopkeeper gave the polished wood a flick and a shower of golden sparks shot out of the tip. Urahara nodded in satisfaction, running his thumb over the wood.

"That one is one of the few wands in this shop that are not Ollivander made," the old man informed him. "It was created by a wandmaker by the name of Grimaldi, a long long time ago. It isn't often that I sell one of his wands…"

A smile stretched across the blonde man's face.

"I think this will do just fine."

* * *

**Kuri:** Gah. Haven't update in forever! Here you go! Please enjoy and review! Thanks for reading!


	3. Beginnings

**Kuri-Kuri:** Eh, not mine. Tite Kubo owns the toy box; I'm just playing with the toys. (And yes, I did shamelessly steal that wonderfully imaginative disclaimer from someone – I just can't quite recall who.)

Oh, also, here are everyone's wands if you'd like to know:

Ichigo: Ebony, thirteen and two thirds inches, and dragon heartstring

Toushiro: Western white pine, ten inches, and dragon heartstring

Renji: Black pine, fifteen and one half inches, and phoenix feather

Rukia: Beech, thirteen and three fourths inches, and unicorn hair

Orihime: Rosewood, twelve inches, and unicorn hair

Rangiku: Ash, ten and a half inches, and phoenix feather

Urahara: Cherry, thirteen inches, and unicorn hair

* * *

**Chapter Three: Beginnings**

* * *

"Eh, could you repeat that?" Ichigo asked, scratching his head, his nose scrunched up slightly.

Hitsugaya sighed, resisting the urge to just bang his head against the cool glass of the train's window. He paused for a moment before speaking. "The point of this mission is to investigate the 'magic' that these wizards practice. We hadn't previously given them much notice, but recently a shinigami on patrol in the area was severely injured by one of their 'spells.' The Soul Society had up until now believed that there wasn't anything other than condensed spirit particles that could harm souls, but somehow this 'magic' seems to be capable of affecting us."

"But what about zanpakuto and kido?" the orange haired teen asked, still looking confused.

"They're both made up of spirit particles; they're just so highly condensed that they can damage physical and living things too. It's like how us shinigami are made of spirit particles – if our power wasn't as condensed as it is we wouldn't be able to touch anything in the material world," Hitsugaya answered, starting to sound slightly exasperated.

"Ah, but couldn't the wizards be using some form of kido?" Ichigo questioned further. "They could just be humans with higher reiatsu levels."

"You can't access much reiatsu while in a physical body," Rukia cut in, shaking her head. "The only reason shinigami are occasionally able to perform kido while confined to gigai are because gigai are made to be able to channel kido. As for Orihime's powers, hers are less like kido and more like a weak zanpakuto, or a physical manifestation of her excess spiritual pressure, while these wizards have a much wider variation of spells and many people can perform the same spell."

"Huh," Ichigo said, still looking slightly unsure, his lips turned down in a scowl. "So why am I here? And why's Orihime here?"

"You're here because…" the short black haired shinigami began, before trailing off uncertainly. "Why_are_ you here? I know Orihime is here because we would like to be able to compare the wizard's powers to hers, but I don't really know why you're here."

She looked over at Captain Hitsugaya, expecting him to fill in the rather gaping hole of Soul Society's reasoning. The white hair shinigami sighed before explaining. "You're here, Kurosaki, because some high level hollows were sighted a couple of miles from the school and the Soutaicho didn't want any more of his captains on leave from Soul Society for an extended period of time."

"So basically I'm a substitute again," the orange haired teen deadpanned, looking rather unamused, scowl deepening even further.

"When are you not?" Renji said, rolling his eyes.

Ichigo looked like he was about to retort, but he was cut off by the sound of the door to their compartment opening. All heads swiveled to see who exactly had interrupted their conversation.

"Mind if I sit here?" a blonde girl asked, her voice rather soft and slightly airy. "This one's the only compartment I can find that isn't filled with Blibbering Humdingers."

There was a moment of silence as the shinigami stared at her for a moment, unsure of how exactly to react.

"Sure!" Orihime chirped brightly, completely oblivious to the reactions of her comrades. "There's a spot over here!"

The blonde girl smiled and sat down next to the orange haired girl, tucking her wand behind her ear. "Luna Lovegood," she introduced. "I haven't met you before."

The way she stated the last part confused the shinigami slightly, unsure if she meant it as more of a polite inquiry to their names or as more of the statement that it came out as.

They introduced themselves a little reluctantly (except for Orihime). Luna didn't seem at all mean, just a little…odd. Not that they themselves could really say anything about "odd." They were, after all, gods of death riding a train to a magic school. That and the fact that their hair colors were perhaps the most nonconformist they'd seen since coming to the UK.

Luna appeared content, though. The compartment was awkwardly silent for a few moments before anyone spoke again.

"Would you like to play exploding snap?" the blonde girl asked, still smiling dazedly. "I have a deck here."

She opened her bag pulled out a rather mundane looking deck of cards.

"What's exploding snap?" Rukia asked, her curiosity piqued. "Some sort of card game?"

Luna hummed softly in confirmation, shuffling the cards, albeit slightly clumsily. "Have you not played before?" she asked innocently, her silvery gray eyes looking up at the black haired shinigami.

Everyone in the compartment nodded.

She smiled again. "It's really quite simple…" she began.

* * *

Hitsugaya bit back a groan as he pressed his head up against the cool glass of the carriage taking them to the castle. He had hoped that his headache would wane after the nap he took on the train, but it seemed to have gotten even worse in that short time period. It was probably that stupid "exploding snap" game, he reasoned. He'd never held up to well around fire and heat, and while the explosions from the wizarding card game were small, they still gave off a bit of heat. That and the train itself seemed to be heated to a temperature that was a bit higher than he normally would have preferred.

Truth be told, so far he had found the wizarding world to be quite fascinating – flying broomsticks, magic wands, spells and potions…Even he couldn't help but let his mouth open slightly when he had first laid eyes on the magnificent castle. It was hard to believe that such a beautiful building was actually a school. Some small childish bit in the very back of his mind couldn't help but think about how much fun it would be to explore.

As soon as the though even brushed his consciousness, though, he quickly pushed it away, banishing it from his mind. The headache was probably just messing with his thought process.

His eyes flickered over to the small blonde girl sitting across from him in the carriage, carrying on a pleasant conversation with Orihime. She seemed like a nice person and he could sense no ill intent, but that didn't mean he was going to be sociable. This was a _mission_ after all.

The short captain sighed inwardly before turning back and pressing his head against the window. He wished that he had been allowed to take a teaching post instead of being stuck with these immature little kids. Even being a student would have been more acceptable if this was a solo mission.

Hitsugaya's icy turquoise-blue eyes gazed out the window, up through the trees at the shining lights of the castle. A few more minutes lapsed into a sort of companionable silence as Luna and Orihime stopped talking for a few minutes to observe the stark lights of Hogwarts shining against the inky night sky.

Eyes flickered over to the creatures pulling the carriages, Hitsugaya examining the creatures pulling the carriages. He'd never seen anything quite like them before, with their bony skeletal forms and thick leathery wings. They looked a little like someone had tried to fit the skin of a bat over a horse, the hide stretching to barely cover the angular skeleton.

"Hey, Luna," Renji said, breaking the silence. "What's up with those creepy horse things pulling the carriages?"

The girl paused for a moment, her strange radish earrings swinging slightly as she turned her head form the window to fix her slightly out of it looking eyes on the red haired man.

"They're called thestrals," she explained, not enthusiastically but not shyly either. "They're quite gentle, really, but people don't like them much. Some think they're bad omens."

"I can see why," Matsumo said, gaze sweeping over their skeletal forms. "They're not exactly cute and fuzzy."

The blonde hummed softly again, but more as a contradiction than an agreement. "It's not just that," she continued, turning her own head to look at the thestrals again. "You can only see a thestral if you've seen death."

Matsumoto's eyes widened and Renji opened his mouth as if to reply, but no words really formed, merely causing him to open and close his mouth as if he was a fish stuck out of water. In the end all the came out was "Oh."

Hitsugaya looked back at the horses – thestrals, actually – drinking in the feeling of their odd spiritual aura and scrutinizing them thoroughly. One of the beasts seemed to sense his eyes on it and turned its head around to look back at him with cloudy white-blue eyes sparked with intelligence.

The young captain was taken aback for a moment, but he did not look away, only finding himself even more intrigued by these strange creatures. The thestral broke his gaze after a few moments, swishing its bony tail slightly and trotting on with the others.

"It's sad," the girl across from him said quietly, a look of slight sorrow and pity in her silvery eyes. "They're such wonderful creatures, but everyone scorns them because they're different. Everyone's just…afraid."

Hitsugaya looked at her for a moment as she said those words, not entirely sure what to make of this odd girl. Her own eyes broke away from the window and for a moment their eyes met. The pity and sadness had left her eyes, replaced by a coating of curiosity, causing the white haired shinigami to hastily look back out the window, focusing once more on the, now much closer, castle. For a second he thought Luna was going to say something, but in the end the silence remained.

The captain closed his eyes and pressed his throbbing head to the chilled glass of the window.

* * *

Harry Potter sighed, chin resting on his hands and elbows propped up on the table as he waited impatiently for the welcoming feast to start. His stomach growled hungrily as he gazed at the empty dishes set at the long wooden tables. He hadn't been too hungry lately, as the Weasleys had come to rescue him from number four Privet drive, but before they'd come to take him to the Quidditch World Cup, he'd been more hungry than ever stuck in the dreaded Dursley house.

Apparently Dudley had grown too large – or rather, to fat – for his school uniform so his teacher had informed Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon that their spoiled little son needed to go on a diet. When his cousin found out about the new dieting plan, he had thrown a tantrum of epic proportions until finally Aunt Petunia had declared that enough was enough and _everyone_ was forced to participate in the torture.

Now, Harry had never been fed much in the first place, but now he was getting to eat even less. It also didn't help that Dudley had a tendency for stealing the smaller boy's food. Never had Harry been more thankful that Ron always gave him candy for his birthday, and, well, for every holiday, really. When he'd told Ron about the situation in one of his letters, Mrs. Weasley had sent him a large assortment of meat pies and Hermione had chipped in too and sent him some snacks. The snacks had lasted a good portion of the summer, although he had to be very careful in rationing them out, but he had nowhere to keep the meat pies from going bad, so he ate them quickly and hoped that maybe the extra fat would keep him generally healthy for the next few weeks.

The black haired boy always felt a little uncomfortable when coming back to school, not because of school itself, but because of the robes. While robes hid his thinness, he never could help noticing that they always seemed a little looser than they were at the end of last year. He was proud, however, that this year, despite the fact that his robes were as loose as ever, the sleeves were getting a little too short. This made him feel like he was making some progress at least, if not out then up.

Harry's attention was brought back to the present as he heard Headmaster Dumbledore clear his throat, silencing the room. The young wizard smiled as he looked up at the elderly man. The school year had officially started.

* * *

**Kuri: **Ha! Another chapter completed! I hope you all enjoy it; thanks for reading and please review. I hope you don't mind the more Harry-centric bit at the end. I know that in quite a few crossovers Harry is perceived as a whiny little brat, but really he isn't that bad. Grated, there are people who've had a worse time, and his angsting in the fifth book really starts to get on my nerves, but it's not easy being Harry Potter (and yes, I did substitute "Harry Potter" for the word "green"). Don't worry, this story will be mainly Bleach-centric but this is also an HP fic! I hope you all like it so far, though. Sorry there's no Urahara in this chapter, but he will most definitely be in the next one! 'till next time! Tschüss!

Oh, also, I've been asked to include Karin/Toushiro, but I'm not sure I will. So far the only certain pairings I'll have in this fic are UraYoru and IchiRuki. If there is an overwhelming amount of people who want Karin/Toushiro I might add in a bit, but there's no guarantees. There will certainly not be any HitsuMomo, though. Their relationship is one of siblings. Well, bye again!


	4. Belonging

**Kuri:**Yay! Another chapter! Like always, Harry Potter and Bleach do not in any way, shape or form belong to me…but _someday_…they still won't.

* * *

**Chapter Four: Belonging**

* * *

The rag-tag shinigami group waited patiently outside of the Great Hall. The cluster of tiny eleven year olds also waiting, considerably less patiently, seemed to take great joy in whispering about them and pointing at them, their little eyes sneaking quick glances every so often.

"You don't have to wait all the way over here, you know," said a small but energetic voice, causing Hitsugaya to turn his head. "I'm Dennis, by the way."

The boy who had spoken was rather small-ish with mousy brown hair and an uneven smattering of freckles across his nose.

"My brother Collin said that it's good to start getting to know your year-mates as soon as possible," the boy continued.

"Year-mates?" Hitsugaya interrupted, looking slightly confused.

"Yeah," he said. "You know, I'm going into first year, you're going into first year…"

The short captain gritted his teeth, headache pulsing worse than before, trying to keep himself from yelling at the boy. It wasn't completely the boy's fault, but still…

"Actually I'm going into fourth year," Hitsugaya ground out, a slight growl lacing his voice.

Matsumoto appeared to be trying – and failing – to stifle a burst of giggles as she watched the scene unfold. Hitsugaya was also well aware that the others were grinning at his predicament (well, except for Orihime; she was kind of off in her own world).

"Oh," Dennis said, not appearing to incredibly sorry or embarrassed by his mistake. "Well, then I'll know an upperclassman! So, what's your name?"

Hitsugaya wasn't exactly sure what to say. He was hoping that his comment would get rid of the young wizard, but it had obviously not been successful.

"Ah, Toushiro Hitsugaya," he replied reluctantly, scrunching his nose at the word order. Why had his name come out backwards? "T-toushiro Hitsugaya." There it was again! He'd meant to say "Hitsugaya Toushiro" but instead it came out "Toushiro Hitsugaya!" Next time he'd just become fluent in the language instead of letting Urahara use that stupid translation spell.

"_Toe-she-row_," Dennis sounded out, his mouth fumbling over the foreign sounds. "I haven't heard that name before."

Hitsugaya sighed again, not looking forward to having to correct his name yet again. It wasn't really _that_ bad…okay, maybe it was, but he'd suffer through it! Somehow.

"If Toushiro is too long, you can always just call him Shiro," the Tenth Division Vice Captain chirped from behind him.

It hadn't truly dawned on Hitsugaya until now how long a year exactly was. And this year was going to be _especially_ long.

* * *

Everyone in the Great Hall was getting extremely bored. It's not that watching first years get sorted wasn't exciting, it really was, the first time, but after a while it got kind of old. Not to mention they were hungry teenagers.

As the last eleven year old scampered off to the Hufflepuff table, Ron and Harry eagerly looked at the still empty plates covering the long wooden table, forks and knives at the ready. A few places down the table, Colin Creevey and his younger brother Dennis were talking animatedly, gesturing at Harry every couple of seconds, their voices loud with excitement. Some part of Harry's mind which wasn't occupied with the thought of food cringed at the though of having two crazed fanboys now.

"Now, before we begin our feast," Dumbledore started, inducing groans from many of the ravenous students, "we have a special group of guests joining us this year."

Harry realized then that he had yet to see the foreign students they had escorted around Diagon Alley earlier that summer. He hadn't thought about it much, as he'd noticed their Professor seated at the Professors' table with his cat, but as he looked around he saw the students just filing into the Great Hall.

"We have the honor of hosting some students from Japan," the elderly man continued. "As Japan's only wizarding school was unfortunately destroyed in 1945, many Japanese witches and wizards are homeschooled or taught in small classes. Japan is still struggling to rebuild its wizarding community, so these students have come to Hogwarts to learn beyond the basics of magic, in order to help with their culture's revival.

"I ask you to please treat them respectfully, and know that they are here to learn just as you are," Dumbledore stated, his eyes twinkling slightly. "And, so they can experience the whole of Hogwarts, they will be sorted into the four houses, and live among you just as any other of your housemates. Let the sorting begin!"

* * *

Renji sat awkwardly on the too-small stool, feeling ridiculous once again as a ratty old hat was placed atop his bright red hair. The robes weren't really that bad – they were a little like the shinigami uniform actually – but honestly, a pointy hat too? And not even a nice looking one.

"I'll have you know that I look rather good for my age," a voice snapped inside his head, causing Renji to stiffen, Zabimaru growling in discomfort.

"Wha - " the voice exclaimed in surprise before being cut off by Zabimaru's rumbling tone.

"What is your purpose in our domain?" the zanpakuto growled.

"I – I need to observe your personality so as to sort you into your proper house," the hat, for Renji realized that was what it was, explained, sounding rather shaken.

Zabimaru paused for a moment before answering. "Very well, then," the zanpakuto replied. "But you will stop when I order you to."

"Agreed," the hat answered.

The red haired shinigami soon became aware of an odd tingling feel inside his mind. This feeling was not unpleasant, but it wasn't exactly what he'd been expecting when the hat had said it was going to sift through his memories.

"Hmmm…" the hat said, breaking Renji from his reverie. "This is…interesting. I've never seen anything quite like it. A life such as yours…"

Renji held his breath, wondering what that hat was going to do. Would this tatty old piece of cloth make their whole mission fall apart?

"I'm not going to tattle," said tatty old piece of cloth huffed. "Well, not so long as you pose no major threat to this castle. Now, as for where to put you…You value intelligence, but not exactly in yourself, and you're ambitious but not particularly sly, so neither Ravenclaw nor Slytherin seems to fit you…"

The tattooed shinigami glanced at the blue and green colored tables, silently agreeing with the hat. The students seated at those two tables reminded him too much of Captain Kuchiki with their neatly arranged robes and slightly unfriendly quality, although his eyebrows quirked upwards slightly as he saw the slightly out of it blonde seated alone at the end of the blue colored table.

"…Hufflepuff would suit your hardworking and loyal spirit, as would Gryffindor compliment your outgoing nature," the hat continued, drawing Renji's gaze to the yellow and red tables. "Do you have any certain preference?"

"Not really," Renji replied, Zabimaru agreeing. "Which house is nosier?" he asked hastily, as a second thought.

"Gryffindor, most certainly," the hat answered, indicating the red table. "Not Gryffindor, then?"

Renji nodded in confirmation.

"Well, then, welcome to…" the hat started, yelling the last part out loud, "HUFFLEPUFF!"

* * *

The sorting continued in a similar fashion, the Sorting Hat placating the guardians of the shinigami's minds, before sorting them like any other new Hogwarts student. Orihime soon joined Renji at the Hufflepuff table, in generally good spirits, but she became a little disappointed when Ichigo was sorted into Gryffindor. Toushiro and Rukia were both placed in Ravenclaw while Rangiku was sent to the red table with Ichigo.

Over at the Ravenclaw table, Rukia jumped slightly as food suddenly appeared on the table, filling the once empty platters to near overflowing. She stared at the food, glancing from the silver utensils she was supposed to eat with to the strange foods set before her. The black haired shinigami had used silverware only once before when she had gone with Ichigo and his family out to eat at an Indian restaurant. She blushed slightly, remembering how Ichigo had chuckled while trying to explain to her how to use said silverware. It wasn't exactly difficult to use them, although she had gotten a little frustrated when trying to scoop up peas with her fork. The spoon was simple enough to use, as it was used in Japanese culture, too, so Rukia settled on some sort of soup that had been placed on the table.

The shinigami took tentative sips of the hot liquid, more out of politeness than anything, as he stomach was not feeling very well. She had felt more tired than usual after their trip through Diagon Alley a few days prior, and she had started feeling a little nauseous on the train ride.

"Are you feeling okay?" a voice asked from beside her, Luna glancing in her direction. "I know the food probably seems a little strange, but it really is very good. Even the dapperblimps like the food here, and they're notoriously picky."

Rukia wasn't sure what a "dapperblimp" was or if it even existed, but she nodded anyways.

"It's not that," she told Luna, stirring the broth with her spoon. "I'm just not feeling very well. I've never been on a train before and I don't think it really agreed with my stomach."

The blonde girl nodded in sympathy, and Hitsugaya's eyes shifted from his plate to scrutinize her for a moment before moving back to his meal.

The feast continued on, Rukia and Luna making small talk, mainly about what Hogwarts was like, with Hitsugaya commenting occasionally. Soon the leftover food and the dishes disappeared, and everyone turned to look at the Headmaster as he stepped back up to his podium.

"Now that we are all fed and watered," Dumbledore began, smiling pleasantly while his eyes scanned the room, "I have a few announcements to make. As always, the forest is off limits for _all_ students, as is Hogsmeade village to first and second year students."

This announcement elicited some discontented grumbles from some of the younger students, but the Headmaster appeared not to have heard them.

"Mister Filch would like me to remind all of you that Dungbombs, Nose-Biting Teacups, Ever-Bashing Boomerangs, and the like are banned from Hogwarts, and will be confiscated if found in your possession. If you would like to see a full list of some 752 items, I believe it can be viewed in Mister Filch's office."

His eyes twinkled brightly with amusement, as he announced this before continuing on with his speech. "Sadly, I must also inform you that the annual Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year."

This announcement caused a considerably larger uproar from the students, the older students booing and muttering to each other, exclamations of outrage ringing through the hall.

Dumbledore waited for a few moments for the students to calm down slightly before going on, "Despite the disappointment that I am sure most of you are currently suffering from, I assure you that you will enjoy the reason for this unexpected happenstance. I take great pride in informing you that Hogwarts – "

However, he was cut off as Great Hall's heavy wooden doors swung open, revealing a hunched figure in the doorway. Hitsugaya's ears perked up as he heard the telltale clunk of wood against the stone floor, his blue eyes darting down to take in the chunk of wood functioning as the strange man's leg. The young captain examined the newcomer, scrutinizing his scarred face and his rather disturbing eye, which swirled around in a dizzying patter, moving completely separately form his normal eye.

"Ah! Professor Moody," Dumbledore exclaimed in a cheery voice. "I'm afraid you've missed the opening feast. Students, I would like to introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Alastor Moody."

A few of the teachers clapped politely, but the students all remained silent, unsure what exactly to make of their new Professor. Whispers flitted through the crowds as the scarred man took his seat at the head table.

"Anyway," Dumbledore resumed, refocusing the children, "as I was saying, this year Hogwarts will be hosting the Triwizard Tournament."

"You must be JOKING!" Hitsugaya heard someone yell from across the room, the shock and elation obvious in their tone.

"I am not, in fact, joking, Mister Weasley," the Headmaster replied good naturedly, his eyes twinkling full force. "Although, I did hear a rather excellent joke over the holidays about a troll, a hag, and a leprechaun who walk into a bar…"  
A stern looking woman sitting rigidly at the front table cleared her throat pointedly, and the Headmaster gained a slightly sheepish expression, continuing on with his announcements.

The shinigami listened intently, well, most of them did…okay, so maybe only a few, as Dumbledore continued to detail the strange event that was to occur that year. Hitsugaya wasn't entirely sure what to make of this, but he figured that it would probably benefit their mission, as it would distract people from their own oddness and investigations.

"Lastly, I am pleased to introduce you all to our new History of Magic teacher, Professor Kisuke Urahara," the elderly man said, gesturing to the blonde man sitting between a very large looking man and a short, slightly dumpy woman.

"Professor Binns has decided to take a year off on spiritual leave, in order to contemplate his current state of death," the Headmaster explained to strangely relieved looking students.

Why did the students look so happy that their former professor was gone? And what exactly did Dumbledore mean by "state of death"? He'd have to look into this later…

"Now, I'm sure you've all had a very tiring day, and whish to get to bed, so you can be bright eyed and bushy tailed for your classes tomorrow morning," Dumbledore said, concluding his announcements. "Bedtime! Off you go!"

With that the students stood and began filing out of the hall, the atmosphere buzzing with excitement and anxiety. Hitsugaya slid off the wooden bench, rubbing the heel of his palm against his still throbbing head before following the others out of the hall.

* * *

**Kuri:**Well, there you go! Another chapter completed! Gah, I'm sorry again about the sorry lack of Urahara, though. I promise you he'll be more prominent in the next chapter! Again, thank you soooooo much for supporting this story – I'll try my best to write something good! See ya next chapter (hopefully)!


	5. Difficulty

**Kuri: **Disclaimer with Kuri: the part of the show where Kuri comes out and disclaims Harry Potter and Bleach. Even though she doesn't want to. She _wishes_ she was that amazing. Sigh. Well, on with the story! (p.s. If you get that disclaimer parody I will love you forever.)

* * *

**Chapter Five: Difficulty  
**

* * *

Morning saw Rukia Kuchiki locked in a bathroom stall puking her guts out. Well, not literally, but it sure _felt_ like it. Her stomach apparently _really_ hated trains. Or maybe trains hated her stomach. One of the two.

The black haired girl shakily stood up, pushing herself away from her stance bent over the porcelain bowl, flushing away the disgusting contents and staggering away to go take a nice long shower. She stopped at the sink first, though, washing her face and hands thoroughly and rinsing out her mouth. She brushed her teeth at least five times.

After showering, Rukia contemplated skipping breakfast as she toweled her hair dry, squeezing the water droplets out of her raven colored locks. The shinigami sighed, deciding against that course of action; she didn't want to worry anyone or appear suspicious.

At breakfast she joined Luna and Captain Hitsugaya at the far end of the Ravenclaw table. The white haired captain had his usual slightly bored and sullen appearance and Luna appeared to be as happy as always in that semi-chipper dreamy way. The shinigami was also surprised to note that not only was the girl wearing the strange radish earrings he had donned the previous night, but that she was also wearing a necklace of bottle caps strung together with a piece of twine.

"Good morning," the blonde girl greeted, placing her wand behind her ear for safekeeping as she moved her books to make room for Rukia. "It's nice to see that you haven't been infected by wrackspurts. I hear Gryffindor's got quite the infestation."

"What's a 'wrackspurt'?" Rukia asked, feeling thoroughly confused.

"They're invisible," Luna explained cheerily. "They float into your ears and make your brain go fuzzy."

Hitsugaya looked up from his book, quirked an eyebrow, and went back to reading, nibbling on a bit of toast at the same time, his brown scrunched in concentration as he began to chew thoughtfully. Rukia suddenly felt a bit sheepish for not really doing much studying for this mission. She'd tried reading some of the course books already but they gave her headaches. Not in the way that they were too complicated – they were very simple, actually – but in the way that after a while the text began to blend together and she soon found herself reading the same sentence on repeat. The throbbing in her skull all the while didn't help in sorting out the tiny print.

The black haired girl sighed and took a small sip of her water, grimacing slightly at the very minty aftertaste from her toothpaste and not bothering to put any food on her plate. Luna started chattering about something or other, and Rukia half listened, tuning out most of the conversation, but still adding in the occasional "Oh really?" or "Mmhmm."

"Miss Kuchiki, is it?" squeaked a tiny voice, drawing the shinigami back to reality.

"Yes?" she replied, turning around to see a very short wizard holding a large stack of papers.

"Here's your class schedule," he said, handing her a piece of parchment and giving her a pleasant smile before digging around in the large stack for Hitsugaya's and Luna's.

Rukia recalled that he was her head of house, Professor _Fu-ri-tu-i-ku_, and that he also taught a class called "charms." The black haired girl glanced over her schedule before downing the last of her water, grabbing her bag, and heading off to class. Today would be an interesting day.

* * *

Urahara hummed to himself as he strolled into his new classroom, ignoring the swiveling of heads as he entered the room. A few students glanced down at his feet, curiously and openly staring at his odd wooden sandals. Others seemed more interested in his white and green striped hat and others his cane. There was a general undertone of whispers throughout the classroom.

However, all eyes immediately were drawn to the rush of movement as Yoruichi jumped gracefully off his shoulder and onto his desk, sitting neatly atop a stack of books. The shopkeeper – now professor – chuckled lightly and waved his wand smoothly, the chalk making soft scratching sounds as it wrote "Professor Urahara" in large loopy letters, not neat per say, but legible.

"Maa, as you have probably already guessed, I'm your new History of Magic professor!" he announced, a large grin spread across his face, his eyes shadowed by his comical hat. "Now, your previous teacher, Professor Binns I believe it was, applied for leave rather suddenly, so I didn't get much time to write out a full lesson plan for the year, and Professor Binns also didn't leave a very detailed description of what you've already learned – all that was written on it was 'Goblin Rebellions and Giant Wars'."

He looked expectantly at the class, hoping for someone to elaborate more on their previous tutelage, calling on a girl with rather bushy brown hair. "Yes, Miss…?"

"Granger, sir," she answered, sitting up straight in her seat attentively like a model student. "I'm sorry to say that 'Goblin Rebellions and Giant Wars' _is_ all we've been taught about. Well, Professor Binns did give a few brief lessons about Uric the Oddball and Emeric the Evil. He also spent one lesson telling us about the Chamber of Secrets in our second year."

"Really? Only one lesson on the most famous secret camber in the world?" the Professor asked, appearing shocked and dismayed at their lack of education on one of his favorite subjects. "Well, it looks like you have a lot of catching up to do. I was going to start off the year with a unit on History of Magical Law, but we obviously have more pressing subjects, here. History of Law of any sort is fairly useless anyway."

The students looked slightly confused by their Professor's blatant disregard for a topic that anyone else would have found highly important, but were not particularly upset – History of Magical Law _did_ sound rather boring, to tell the truth.

"I guess we're going to have to start from the beginning, then," Urahara continued, scratching his chin in thought. "Origins of Magic: how magic formed, where magic came from and why it came to be."

The green clad man tapped the black board with his wand as he spoke, his black cat shifting to sprawl out atop the stack of books she had been sitting on, her tail swishing back and forth as it hung off the edge.

"Now, does anyone know anything about genetics?" the blonde professor asked, eyes scanning the room.

Hermione's hand shot up again, eager to answer the question, because of both her need to share her abundant knowledge and her desire to prove her intelligence to her new teacher. Harry's hand also rose tentatively beside hers.

"Yes Mister…Potter, is it?" Urahara asked, eyes fixed on the dark haired boy, their intensity making the teen a little nervous.

"Uh, yeah," he replied feeling a little awkward. "Well, genetics is your DNA and such," he said, trying to better recall his muggle science classes, noting the confused looks on the children from wizarding families. "So, it's like the materials and such that you're made of that came from your parents."

Many of the purebloods still looked lost, so he tried for a more blunt and simplified tactic, "It's your family history, basically."

This, the purebloods seemed to comprehend, some form of vague understanding dawning on their faces.

"In simple terms, yes, I guess you could call it that," Urahara agreed, wincing inwardly as his internal scientist sobbed at the mutilation of such a complex process. "Bluntly put, magic originated when someone developed a mutation."

"Like, three legs sort of mutation?" a kid in the third row asked, still looking rather confused.

"Yeah, kind of. Sort of. I guess," the shopkeeper answered, scratching the back of his neck. "Not that sort of physical mutation, though. It was more of an energy processing mutation. As you all know, your body needs energy to survive. Your cells make that energy, but your cells aren't always that efficient; in fact, the normal muggle body is able to use only about forty percent of the energy it makes – the other sixty percent is lost as heat."

The students who had not been to a muggle school prior looked a little lost, but appeared to be getting the general idea.

"The wizard body, on the other hand is very interesting," he continued, the grin on his face widening – which looked rather scary, as his eyes were still shadowed by his hat. "See, somewhere along the line of human evolution wizards separated out from muggles because their bodies started producing a new type of energy! This new energy was magic.

"Of course, I'm not entirely sure how it works – that's the extent of my knowledge, if you wanted to know more you'd have to talk to an expert," he said, abruptly closing the lecture.

The blonde professor continued on in this fashion, talking about some of the earliest wizards, stopping at the middle ages with Merlin. It had never really occurred to Harry that, despite how he'd heard the name "Merlin" so often (often in the form of "Merlin's beard!") he'd never really learned much about the guy.

"Now, before you leave for your next class, I'd like to explain your homework," Professor Urahara said, drawing Harry out of his thoughts. "In History of Magic you will have no tests or quizzes."

This announcement elicited grins and a few cheers from the students.

"However, you will have an end of year project," he continued. "You'll actually be working on this project the whole year, and there will be different parts to the project, but it is essentially to research a famous witch or wizard – from any time period. Your homework for tomorrow is to find five different candidates that you'd be willing to research, so we can decide who's working on whom tomorrow."

With that he waved them off to their next classes, plopping down in his chair to wait for his next class. When all of the students had filed out of the classroom, Yoruichi leapt off of the books she had been resting on, to stretch out on the desk in front of Urahara on the smooth wood of the desk.

"Lazy," she said, flicking her tail at his nose and turning her head up to look at him. "You just don't want to have to grade any tests or quizzes."

"Maa, I'm afraid you've caught me," he replied in over exaggerated guilt. "I'm just a lazy Professor who wouldn't pick up a pen if his life depended on it!"

"Well, then I guess you're lucky they use quills here," Yoruichi shot back, a feline grin spreading across her furry face.

"I know! This is just _torture_!" he proclaimed dramatically. "Why, I think it would have been kinder for the Captain Commander to just kill me!"

"I agree," the black cat said, nodding her head sagely. "It would have been kinder for all of us, really."

"You wound me, fair Yoruichi!" the blonde man exclaimed. "To be rejected in such a way…"

"I'm sure you'll get over it and come back twice as annoying," she answered, still smiling.

"Of course I will," he replied, grinning back.

"Yes, you always do, don't you?" Yoruichi murmured, her smile fading slightly.

Urahara just nodded in response.

* * *

Renji was currently sitting in Transfiguration. It was, by far, his least favorite class. He was well known throughout Soul Society for his less than desirable amount of control over his spiritual pressure, and his control over this "magic" wasn't much better. Magic was odd, to put it lightly, and he wasn't even sure he was doing it correctly. From what little he could sense, the witches and wizards where somehow able to pull that energy from inside their own bodies. Renji, however, was so far unable to produce this strange energy. He suspected, though, that if he did contain this energy he would probably control it in nearly the exact same way he controlled his spiritual pressure.

As of yet, the red head had made due by manipulating the leftover magic particles in the air, kind of like how plants used the sun's energy for photosynthesis and the production of energy. He'd been able to easily pull off some of the more basic charms after a few tries, and while the fifth year and up charms were more difficult, they weren't impossible. Transfiguration on the other hand…It required very fine focus and a lot of magical energy. And, as stated before, Renji sucked at fine focus.

"And what," a stern voice near him said, "is that, Mister Abarai?"

"Er…well, it's a rabbit, Professor," he answered rather sheepishly, eyeing the figure on his desk.

It was most certainly _not_ a rabbit. In fact, it probably couldn't even be called an _animal_. Sure, it was fuzzy, but mold could be fuzzy, too, and, quite honestly, Renji's…_object_ was definitely more akin to a growth of uneven, lumpy mold than it was to a rabbit.

Professor McGonagall sighed, sounding very tired. She explained the process again to Renji, although the red head was quite sure he understood the process, and demonstrated the spell, too, before asking the shinigami to try again. The lump gained furry appendages at the top which looked slightly like ears, but that was all that happened.

"You need to put more power into it," the elderly professor repeated, swishing her wand and transfiguring the furry mass back into a book. "Then you can work out the finer control. It won't do you any good if your control is excellent but you aren't putting any power into it."

Renji tried again, but still couldn't get it. McGonagall sighed again and told him to wait for a moment as she dismissed the rest of the class to lunch. Rukia, however, lingered in the doorway to wait for her friend, carefully poking her head into the classroom.

"I'm assigning you extra practice, Mister Abarai," the Deputy Headmistress instructed sternly. "If I do not start seeing improvement within the next two weeks, then I will have to give you remedial Transfiguration lessons."

"Yes, Professor," Renji grumbled, grabbing his textbook and shoving it into his bag a little more forcefully than necessary.

However, Professor McGonagall then noticed Rukia waiting in the doorway and her eyes sparked with an idea, waving her over.

"Miss Kuchiki, I was very pleased with your work in class today, your _Lapifors_ transfiguration was exemplary," she began, making Rukia blush slightly at the compliment, "and I am wondering if you would be so kind as to help Mister Abarai with the spell, as he is having considerable difficulty."

"Sure," she replied, smiling sweetly to the professor. However, as soon as they were in the hallway and out of hearing range, the black haired shinigami burst into laughter, tears welling up in the corners of her eyes.

"Remedial Transfiguration?" she gasped once she had regained some semblance of control. "Really, Renji? I knew you sucked at focusing your spiritual pressure, but really?"

"Shut up," he protested, swatting at her head playfully. "We can't all be as good at kido as you."

"Whatever you say," she replied in an artificially sweet tone. "Whatever you say."

Renji just grumbled.

* * *

**Kuri:** And, thus, another chapter – this time with more Urahara with some added Renji and Rukia! I hope to update again soon! I hope you all like it so far – I know I'm having fun writing it! Well, see you next chapter!

Oh, and also, the fact about the muggle (or, rather, human) body using only about forty percent of the energy the body creates and the rest being lost as heat is true – at least according to a biology textbook. As for the origins of magic, it sounds slightly possible, but it's only my speculations. That's all. Thanks for reading!


	6. Faint

**Kuri: **Yay – new chapter! Clearly not mine; you know the drill.

* * *

**Chapter Six: Faint**

* * *

Harry Potter and Ron Weasley crept tentatively into the library. They looked at each other for reassurance before nodding in sync. They pulled themselves up to full height and marched confidently towards the figure sitting at the table in front of them, knowing full well that they might not make it out of this confrontation alive – or, if they did, it could take _years_ to escape.

Yes, Hermione Granger was on what could only be called a rampage. As in, at least a third of the books in the library were on the small table she was seated at, and she was frantically scribbling down notes – cross checking, referencing, quoting, and reading faster than the speed of light. She was, truthfully, rather terrifying.

The two boys had been elated to find out that there would be not tests or quizzes in History of Magic, in fact, Harry had even been a little excited about the yearlong project – it sounded rather interesting…Or at least it did until Hermione decided that no scrap of information would be excluded from her project: if her subject so much as _sneezed_ it would be noted.

However, the bigger dilemma was who to choose. As soon as Hermione began her rampage, Harry and Ron realized that they were going to need to have someone picked out as soon as possible in order to avoid being dragged along and locked in the library for the next few hours…or weeks…or years. Truthfully, they wouldn't even risk being in the library now with the bushy haired girl if curfew wasn't in only ten minutes.

"Uh, hey, Hermione," Harry began carefully.

She didn't respond.

"Hermione," he tried again, a little louder this time.

Again, no indication that she had heard him.

"'Mione!" Ron yelled, his voice ringing through the large room.

"What?" she snapped, tearing her eyes from her book to glare up at Ron.

Ron and Harry both looked rather terrified at the slightly wild look in her eyes, torn between their fight or flight instincts. Hermione's eyes widened in guilty surprise, blushing slightly, embarrassed by her reaction.

"Er, sorry, Ron," she muttered, still blushing, "but could you maybe wait a bit? I only have nine possible choices so far, and I'd like to make it at least an even ten, and as it's due tomorrow I really don't have time to chat…"

"Well, actually, Hermione, that's why we were looking for you," Harry interrupted hastily. "Curfew is in ten minutes, and you missed dinner, too."

"Really?" the bushy haired girl replied, shocked. "But I've still got to check out these books!"

Ron made a sort of strangled choking sound at her proclamation, trying not to gawk at the mountain of books she had spread out across the oak table. "Isn't there, like, a limit on the amount of books you can check out?" he said, looking at the dusty tomes as if they were going to jump up and attack him. "Can you even _carry_ them?"

Hermione shot him another glare. In the end, they managed to convince Hermione to only take fifteen books, and spent another half hour trying to re-shelve all the books. It was now a good thirty five minutes after curfew and Harry and Ron were thanking whatever deity that there had been no one patrolling the library. They snuck as silently as possible back through the dark corridors of the school, internally wincing at the soft tap-tap of their shoes against the cold stone floors. Harry was very much wishing that he'd had the insight to bring his invisibility cloak or at least the marauder's map.

The trio was passing by the Defense Against the Dark Arts classrooms when they were stopped abruptly by a figure in front of them. It was a boy, and a strange sort of familiarity pricked at the back of Harry's mind. He was pale, very pale, with white hair and teal colored eyes, and the stark color contrast of his skin and hair against the blackness of the corridor made it look as if he was _glowing_. Harry's eyes locked with the boy's and he was about to say something before he was interrupted by the loud clunk of wood against stone.

"What in the name of Merlin are you four doing out of bed at this hour?" a gruff voice rasped, making Harry's skin crawl slightly.

The other boy's teal eyes shifted to gaze over the black haired boy's shoulder, almost visibly sharpening as they landed on the source of the voice. Harry's own green eyes cautiously observed the man, registering him as Professor Moody, their new DADA teacher.

"We're very sorry, Professor," Hermione started, again turning slightly red in embarrassment. "You see, Harry, Ron and I were studying in the library and lost track of time. We were just heading back to the dormitories."

"And you, Mister…?" Moody growled after scrutinizing the trio of Gryffindors, turning his unnerving gaze to the shorter boy.

"Hitsugaya," he replied, his voice icy. "I…got lost. I was about to ask them," he nodded towards Harry, Ron and Hermione, "for directions when you found us."

"Didn't they give you foreign blokes maps of the castle?" the grizzled man asked, suspicion evident in his voice.

"I forgot mine in my dormitory," was the boy's reply, not sounding guilty or sheepish in the slightest, his expression barely flickering.

"Well then, I guess this will be a lesson for next time," Moody snorted. "I'll leave the four of you with a warning this time, but next time I catch you wandering the halls afterhours there'll be consequences."

His eyes flickered back to the three Gryffindors, his false eye for once still, trained directly on Harry. "You three had better get back to Gryffindor tower, then," he told them before turning back to Hitsugaya. "_You_ will come with me back to the Ravenclaw dorms."

With that, he turned on his heel and marched back into the darkness of the hallway, his wooden leg clunking methodically on the stone floor. Hitsugaya glanced at Harry, Ron and Hermione once more before following, dissolving into the darkness like a ghost.

* * *

Hitsugaya lay in bed the next morning, awake but not wanting to be. Normally he was an early riser, but this morning he had woken up late – everyone else was already at breakfast by now. The white haired boy was unsure he even wanted to get up; his stomach felt like someone had stuck it in a blender and his head was throbbing painfully. He imagined that he probably looked like Matsumoto after a night of heavy drinking.

Despite the unusual tiredness that he had felt the previous night, the white haired captain had wandered the castle after curfew. Since his first night in the castle, he had felt something odd – some sort of fragmented spiritual presence. The mission overview had informed him of the spirits residing in the castle prior to their arrival, and those spirits did give off an odd aura, but it was nothing like the other pressure that nagged at the back of his consciousness.

The young captain had planned on spending the night pinpointing whatever it was that was producing the aura, but Moody had cut this plan short with his untimely appearance.

Hitsugaya's eyes flickered to the window, gazing at the sunlight softly beaming through the dark blue curtains. He sighed and began to pull himself out of bed, his head giving a throb of protest at the movement.

Half an hour later found him slowly walking to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. He sped up as the classroom came into view, slipping in the door quietly and claiming the last seat, up in the very front of the classroom. The young captain glanced over at the three people to his left, recognizing them as the three students out afterhours the previous night: a black haired boy with an odd scar on his forehead, a red haired boy with a rash of freckles across his nose, and a bushy haired girl carrying more books than _him_.

The white haired boy found himself staring at the black haired Gryffindor, eyes immediately drawn to the scar on his forehead, shaped almost like a lightning bolt. It felt…strange. Very strange. His skin has torn between crawling off at the aura of malice and relaxing from the feeling of…what? Love? That it was giving off. The maliciousness of the aura felt strangely like whatever it was he'd been detecting in the castle the past few nights, but it was…different. He couldn't quite describe it.

"Good morning class," a gruff voice – again, something from last night – boomed. "Or rather as good of a morning as it's going to get."

Hitsugaya automatically tensed as the professor's false eye rounded on him, unnerving in how his other eye did not follow its line of sight.

"Now, I've been going over your past education," he continued with an almost scoff in his voice, "and I can't say I'm particularly impressed. Your curriculum has been fragmented at best, and downright useless at worst; detrimental, even, if Lockhart is anything to go by."

The white haired captain resisted the urge to raise an eyebrow as the class collectively groaned at the mention of this "Lockhart" character. The red head next to him muttered darkly to himself – something about memory charms and pixies. Well, at least he seemed to have managed to come here during a year with a decent DADA teacher.

"First year you appeared to have had a fairly balanced curriculum, basic introduction, etc," Moody's gruff voice rumbled, "and third year gave you a good handle on dark creatures. I'm not going to bother counting your second year, considering you spent it reading and listening to the useless drivel of a teacher who wasn't more than a pretty face."

The bushy haired girl with too many books blushed a bright pink color at the last comment.

"Anyways, despite how the man was a werewolf, he did give you a through education on dark creatures," the professor continued. "However, you are behind, _very_ behind, on curses. Last year you learned about what other creatures can do to you; this year you'll be learning about what other wizards are capable of."

Hitsugaya resisted the urge to smirk. This was exactly what they were looking for – after all, spells that affected wizards also affected shinigami.

"Now, the government doesn't want me showing you these spells until you're of age," Moody began bluntly, harsh gaze swooping across the room, "but I think you have a right to know. You've got to know what you're up against."

The young captain quietly took out a piece of paper and a quill, eagerly awaiting the demonstration, icy eyes shifting back up from his parchment to fix on the scarred man.

"Who knows anything about the unforgiveable curses?"

No one spoke.

"Nothing? None of you?" Moody growled, startling the class as he knocked his heavy wooden leg on the classroom floor loudly. "Come on, speak up! At least some of you are from wizarding families – I know you've heard of them before. Don't be afraid to talk about them."

He glared around at the nervous faces of the students, all shifting uncomfortably in their seats. Hitsugaya considered answering, as he recalled a bit about them from some of the books he'd been working through, but someone else caught Moody's eye.

"Weasley!" the scarred man barked, making the red haired boy jump slightly, startled. "Give me a curse."

The freckled boy floundered for a moment, stuttering slightly, before swallowing and answering. "W-well, my dad did tell me about one…" he said, glancing to the black haired boy next to him. "I think it was called the Imperius curse…"

"Ah, yes," Moody nodded, his false eye swirling. "Your father would know all about that one – gave the Ministry quite a bit of grief a few years back."

He had opened a small glass jar during Ron's answer and now pulled from it a rather large black spider. A couple of the students looked like they were going to be sick; probably the one from wizarding families who knew what was coming.

"_Imperio!_" the professor hissed, swishing his wand deftly in the direction of unfortunate spider. The spider twitched and then went very still, and almost…complacent was the best word Hitsugaya could find to describe its state.

"The Imperius curse," the ex-auror began, "is one of the hardest curses to detect. It's also the only one of the unforgiveable curses that can be fought off."

The spider jerked to the left, then to the right, its complacent look never dissipating. It began running around in small circles across the table before beginning to move in a way oddly reminiscent to a tap dance. Hitsugaya closed his eyes for a moment, resisting the urge to massage his temples as his headache spiked suddenly, gritting his teeth as a wave of dizziness washed over him.

"The Imperius curse allows the caster to control their victim," Moody continued, the spider still dancing. "They tell the victim what to do, the victim does it. However, you can learn to resist this curse. We'll be trying that at a later date."

Everyone was watching raptly as the spider danced faster and faster before slowly stopping, shuddering as Moody released the spell.

"Can anyone tell me another curse?" the man asked. "Longbottom perhaps?"

The Gryffindor nodded reluctantly, just as nervous, if not more, than Ron. "T-there's…there's the Cruciatus curse…"

The grizzled professor's expression softened for a moment as he nodded, not answering Neville directly, before pointing his wand at the spider and barking out the spell. Hitsugaya's eyes widened as a high pitched noise filled the classroom, the spider jerking and convulsing under the influence of the curse.

"The Cruciatus curse inflicts extreme pain," Moody boomed over the sounds of the spider's screams. "It's a torture curse, plain and simple."

The Gryffindor who had given the curse had gone white as a sheet, clenching the table with a death grip, his knuckles going white. He began breathing quickly – hyperventilating, Hitsugaya's mind supplied, but it only registered dully, as a wave of dizziness and nausea washed over him. He fisted a hand into his hair, propping his elbows up on the desk and leaning over the wood, trying not to throw up or pass out.

The pain resided as Moody slowly lifted the curse, Neville breaking his death grip on the table and Hitsugaya relaxing slightly, his head clearing, but still throbbing.

"And the last curse?" the strange professor asked.

The classroom was completely still, everyone's hair still on end.

"I know you all know it!" Moody barked suddenly, causing everyone to jump in their seats. "You've all heard of it! You seem to know all about the only person to ever survive it; the young man who's sitting in this very room!"

Both eyes, unmoving, were pinned to the black haired boy two seats away from Hitsugaya – the one with the lightning bolt scar. The bushy haired girl next to him muttered something.

"What was that, Miss Granger?" the professor snapped, whirling to face the poor girl.

"I-I said the last one's the Killing curse," she replied softly, not meeting his eyes.

He kept his gaze fixed on her for a moment before abruptly spinning around to the nervous and confused spider.

"_Avada Kedavra!_"

Hitsugaya felt the world around him spin as the spider shuddered one last time before going still. Dark spots crowded the edge of his vision and a sharp pain jolted through his head as if someone had just stuck a zanpakuto through it. The dizziness overtook him and the white haired captain was vaguely aware of a falling sensation before his world went dark. The last image he saw before blacking out was a brightly lit castle.

* * *

**Kuri:** Yes, I am being evil and giving you a cliffhanger. I now have science homework to do, though, so that's all for now! I hope to see you next chapter!


	7. History

**Kuri: **Harry Potter and Bleach are not mine, sadly. Sorry I haven't updated in a while (I've been distracted by Mozart L'Opera Rock and Stargate: Atlantis…along with a trip to England! It was awesome! And I saw the library hallway in Oxford where the Harry Potter infirmary was filmed – along with the library! And, best of all, I saw the courtyard where Draco Malfoy was turned into a ferret in the 4th movie! My life is now complete. Well, nearly. Okay, so not even nearly, but still!). Now – on with the story!

* * *

**Chapter Seven: History**

* * *

Every head turned as a painful sounding smack echoed through the dimly lit classroom. Harry's eyes widened as he saw the white haired Ravenclaw from the previous night sprawled out across the stone floor. He shivered, from the shock he initially thought, but when he took a breath he was surprised to see his warm breath steam in the frosty air. And the temperature continued to drop.

"Did he just _faint?_" Padma Patil said, craning her neck to see around the people in front of her.

"…My expectations for you class have just decreased immensely," Moody growled, eying the white haired boy.

"Sir, shouldn't someone take him to the infirmary?" Hermione asked, clutching her robes around her more tightly in an effort to retain heat.

"Probably," the scarred professor grumbled. "You lot, Potter, Weasley, and Granger, seeing as you volunteered, you can take him. The rest of the class is dismissed."

Harry and Ron moved forward to haul the white haired boy off of the floor, jumping slightly as Hermione muttered "_Mobilicorpus!_" causing the Ravenclaw's small body to float up off the ground.

"Blimey, Hermione! Warn us a bit before you go around levitating people, would you?" Ron said exasperatedly as Hitsugaya floated out the classroom door, everyone still in the classroom staring curiously.

Hermione was careful not to break her concentration as she guided the body down the hall with her wand, ignoring the Weasley boy. Harry and Ron trailed behind, carrying Hitsugaya and Hermione's books. The other students in the hallway openly gaped at the Gryffindors and unconscious Ravenclaw – Harry could practically feel the rumor mill begin to flow.

They hurried along, quickening their steps. Harry and Ron moved ahead of Hermione and Hitsugaya to hold open the doors to the infirmary, while Hermione carefully set the white haired boy down on the nearest bed. Madam Pomfrey turned away from the Hufflepuff whose temperature she was checking to inspect the newcomers.

"Hold this in your mouth for five minutes," she instructed the Hufflepuff sternly, before walking over to inspect Hitsugaya.

"He fainted during Defense Against the Dark Arts," Hermione explained, moving aside to let the nurse inspect the unconscious boy. "He also hit his head on the floor pretty hard when he fell over."

"He'll probably have a bump on his head, but I don't think he'll have a concussion," Madam Pomfrey said as she felt the back of his head blood or fractures. "Was this in any way spell-induced?"

"No. Although, I didn't see him at breakfast this morning," Hermione answered.

"Hmm. Well, thank you for bringing him in. Unless there's anything else you need to tell me the three of you should be off to your next class," she said while carefully positioning Hitsugaya's head more comfortably on the pillow.

"Oh. Yeah, we probably should," the bushy haired girl replied, taking one last look at the unconscious Ravenclaw before the three Gryffindors turned and left the infirmary.

* * *

_A young boy stood on the front steps of a suburban house, the door ajar, shifting impatiently from foot to foot. The soft creaking of the wooden stairs inside immediately drew his eyes, a small grin lighting up his face. _

_ "Come _on_, Dad! You promised you'd take me flying today!"He said, eagerly rushing forward to pull the older man out the door. _

_ "Hey, not so fast!" the man laughed. "We still have to apply the cloaking spell, remember?" _

_ The pale boy blushed as he followed his father back inside so he could perform the cloaking spell away from curious muggle eyes. The wizard lightly tapped his wand to the boy's head, the wood only slightly darker than the light brown of the boy's hair. He muttered the incantation softly and the boy squeezed his teal eyes closed for a moment, letting the cool waves of magic wash over him._

_ "There we go," the boy's father smiled, pocketing his wand. "Now we're ready."_

_ They both walked outside, and the boy made a beeline for an old-fashioned broomstick lying in the grass. It floated up lazily into his father's hand, hovering just below the man's fingers, and the boy couldn't help but let his mouth hang open for a moment. _

_ "So, you're really doing this?" A voice called from the doorway. _

_ A woman stood there, her arms folded over her chest, betraying her discomfort and a small frown marred her light-skinned face. _

_ "Toshiko, honey," the father said, moving over to place a tender hand on her cheek. "It's perfectly safe. I'll be there with Toshiro the entire time, and we're only going a short way. We'll stay fairly low and the weather's supposed to be excellent today. And it's not like he hasn't flown before in the back yard."_

_ "I know, Tom. It's just, I worry about him – about the both of you, hundreds of feet in the air on nothing but a broomstick," she replied, reaching her own hand to clutch her husband's. "And this magic…I've seen you do it hundreds of times, but it's still so foreign to me…"_

_ "Just trust me," he insisted, dropping a chaste kiss on her lips._

_ "You know I do." _

_ He dropped his hand from her face to turn back to where his son was again bouncing up and down impatiently, clutching a shorter broomstick in his hands._

_ "Now are you ready?" the boy asked eagerly. _

_ "Yep. You ready?" the father replied. _

_ "Of course! Can we just go now?" he sighed exasperatedly. _

_ "Okay. One. Two. Three – Go!" _

_ And with that they pushed up off the ground._

* * *

_ The boy stood on his tip-toes, grumbling to himself as he attempted to get a better view of the dining hall. The eleven year old again cursed his shortness and he jumped slightly to try and see over the head of the blond girl in front of him. Blonde _girl_. However, he soon gained a better view, as the line of to-be-sorted first years began to file into the hall. _

_ His teal eyes scanned the older students as he waited for his name to be called, taking in everything – from the brightly colored banners to the ceiling, enchanted as the sparkling night sky._

_ "Hughes, Toshiro," a voice called out, breaking the boy out of his trance. _

_ The boy slowly and evenly walked forward, his outward appearance betraying none of his inner turmoil or excitement. He placed the old hat carefully on his head, annoyed at how his feet dangled off the floor as he sat on the stool. _

_ He jumped slightly as the hat chuckled, a warm tickle in the back of his mind. _

_ "Welcome to Hogwarts." _

_ The boy smiled._

* * *

_ The boy shrunk back from the crowd, trying to sneak by and remain as unnoticeable as possible. Hogwarts had started out wonderfully – a veritable heaven of knowledge and security in a world of Death Eaters and _the Dark Lord_. But even here, dark strains were beginning to emerge, tainting the school's atmosphere with a sour tension. _

_ He was never more grateful that he'd listened to the hat when it'd suggested that Ravenclaw would be a better place for him than Slytherin. _

_ He scurried onward to class, feeling sick of himself in the pit of his stomach – the bitter taste of his own cowardice darkening his thoughts. He did not glance at the scrapes patterning the face of Elizabeth, one of his housemates. _

_ There was nothing he could do, he told himself. He was only one small first year – what could he possibly do when even the professors looked the other way at the words "Mudblood" and even "Muggle" carved into the desks and scribbled on paper airplanes, hissed in the hallways and sneered in hurtful jokes that weren't really jokes at all. _

_What could one insignificant little half-blood do?_

* * *

_ But then, one day, things changed. If it was for the better or for the worse, the boy could not say. If he regretted it, he couldn't say. If it made any difference at all, he couldn't say._

_ There was truly only one thing he could say: That it was the right thing to do. _

_ "My father bought me a pet snake, you know," one boy taunted, lazily flicking his wand – not casting any spells, but enjoying the way the blonde girl flinched at its implication. "If your sister doesn't learn to keep her head down maybe I'll have to feed you to it. Oh, but don't worry – it'll be less painful than the Cruciatus, I'm sure." _

_ The other purebloods congregated there laughed along cruelly, taking some sort of morbid pleasure in the small girl's cringing, meek look._

_ "Just move along," the boy told himself, averting his eyes. "It's not like they'd actually set a snake on her. They couldn't." _

_ "Want to meet my snake?" the young Death Eater continued, grinning wolfishly. "You can meet him right now, if you'd like. I can summon him, you know." _

_ The boy stumbled slightly, caught off guard by this proclamation. "He wouldn't, would he?" _

_ "Why don't I show you?" the girl's tormenter snickered. "_Serpensortia!_" _

_ And a long, brown snake shot out of the end of his wand. While it didn't look large enough to actually _eat_ the girl, Toshiro froze. He knew a rattlesnake when he saw one. The distinct diamond shaped pattern on its back didn't help ease his mind either. The rattlesnake didn't look particularly happy either. _

_ The boy now had two decisions. 1) Keep out of it. He'd not be injured or invoke the wrath of the mini-Death Eaters, and if Elizabeth – the girl – was bitten, she'd probably be taken to the infirmary. They wouldn't really kill her, would they? 2) Defend her. Defend her and perhaps save her from dying today. Or perhaps not. They could _both_ be killed, then. Really, looking at the situation, the most logical response would be to just leave…_

_ But was that the _right_ thing to do?_

_ Elizabeth caught his eye, his cold, teal eye, for just a second. _

_ No. It wasn't the right thing to do. _

_ Well, here goes option two._

* * *

_ They'd both ended up in the hospital wing anyways, it was five against two after all, but no one was bitten and no one was dead. Really, it was just a couple of scrapes and a jelly legs jinx. He'd even managed to vanish the snake himself. _

_ And after that he couldn't let himself stand by any longer. _

_ Of course, it wasn't without benefits. He had never really realized how _alone _he'd felt before. _

_ But then things changed again. And this time, it was not in any way for the better. Because this time when he came home there was no hug from his mother and no pat on the head from his father. In fact, there was no home at all. Not really. _

_ All there was was a hooded figure, a scream, a flash of green light, and two fresh corpses. _

_ The rest of his Christmas break was spent at Hogwarts. _

_ And when the boy who had threatened Elizabeth with the snake – the boy who had started it all – hit him with an Unforgiveable and told him to jump off the Astronomy Tower into the freezing cold lake and drown…_

_ It was all too easy to comply._

* * *

Toshiro awoke not knowing who the hell he was. Not knowing where Hitsugaya ended and Hughes began. Not knowing if he was dead or alive. Not knowing if he was Shinigami or human. And not knowing where to go from here.

"This must be why Shinigami don't remember their past lives," he thought bitterly. "There's not enough of me to be split between them."

The white haired boy lay paralyzed in bed, staring at the ceiling, his pale hands fisted tightly in the crisp white sheets of the hospital bed.

"Stop crowding around! Did you hear me? Stop crowding around, and let me handle this!" a woman's voice snapped, drawing Toshiro's attention away from his dark thoughts. "All of you, seeing as you're not injured, need to leave the hospital wing so I may tend to my patients. Miss Kuchiki will not just break out of unconsciousness just because you're all crowded around her bedside prohibiting me from doing my job!"

Kuchiki was here too?

* * *

**Kuri:** Yeah, another semi-cliffhanger. Sorry there wasn't much happening in this chapter, and there wasn't really anyone except for Toshiro. It's more just background than anything. Eh, I hope you enjoyed it anyways! I'll try to update again soon, but you know that never happens. Please review, and thanks for reading!


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